


Post-Halloween Lovin'

by jenuinelyy



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenuinelyy/pseuds/jenuinelyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho met a cutie at Teresa's Halloween party.<br/>AKA, I wanted boys in costume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-Halloween Lovin'

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this after Halloween but then I got stuck. Then exams hit. I suck. Part 1 is just funnies.

 

There were really annoying jingling noises in the distance. Groggily, Minho stirred, groaned, and buried his face into his pillow. The sound came closer, opened the door, and advanced upon his bed until “It’s Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas” was blasting right by his ears.

“Mmmmmfffuuckkkk.” Minho groaned, burying himself deeper into his covers, “Frypan, shut it  _off_.”

“C’mon man, tis the season!”

“Halloween. Was. Yesterday.” Minho said, enunciating every word (the best he could, given his headache) and swatting Frypan’s speakers away from his head.

“Whatever dude, you ain’t stopping me.” Frypan said merrily, flying out the door as Minho threw his stuffed dinosaur at him. He regretted it immediately as his head pounded from his hangover.

“Urghhhh…” groaned Minho loudly, throwing himself back into the warmth of his blankets, lumping himself into a cocoon.

After a few minutes of silence, a voice came up beside him, “Hey sleepybrains, time to rise and shine.”

“You’re not my mother, Newt. Also it’s Saturday and I don’t have to do shit.”

“Not according to you last night.”

“Do I look like I fuckin’ remember last night?”

“No. Which is why you told me to remind you about that thing you promised what’s-his-face.”

The lump on the bed remained still for several seconds before—

“FUCK.” Minho bolted upright, jumped out of his bed and straight into the bathroom. Newt walked calmly to the bathroom door, leaned against the frame and said, “Aren’t you glad you have me?”

“Shut up, man, I’m almost late.” Minho managed through the toothbrush in his mouth and his stripping down to get into the shower.

“Calm down, Minny, it’s only 11:30.” Newt chuckled.

Minho turned to look at Newt then grabbed the other boy’s arm, twisting it to check his watch.

“Ow, ow, ow, hey—”

“Ughh, phew…” Minho sighed, visibly relaxing, then, with a signature Minho-smile, exclaimed, “Thanks, fuckface! Now let me shower.” Then slammed the bathroom door on Newt.

“Honestly…” Newt sighed, walking out of Minho’s room, backtracked and hollered, “Frypan’s making pancakes, chop-chop before they’re gone!”

“Thanks, mom!” He heard Minho answer. 

 

Despite what Minho claimed earlier, his hangover had already begun to fade as water ran down his head and face. He’d always been a morning person, and he’d always recovered fast from alcohol. As he scrubbed himself, he concentrated on the events of last night.

* * *

Newt stood back a bit, before reaching up and adjusting something again. Minho stood there rolling his eyes.

“It’s fine, Newt, I’m pretty sure no one’s gonna whip out a ruler to make sure the wings are even.”

“There, pretty as a picture.” Said Newt proudly, ignoring his teammate.

“Tell me who you are again?” said Minho, raising an eyebrow.

“Apollo. Duh.” Said Newt, holding up his cardboard harp as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, right, of course. God of arts, knowledge and  _manly beauty_. Makes sense.” Minho snickered, quoting Wikipedia.

“Obviously.” Newt chirped back.

Suddenly a noise came from the doorway behind Newt “Aroooooo! Hottie a _lert_!” it was Frypan (whose name was actually Sigmund, but no one called him that), who walked in, wearing a red cloth draped over his toga and holding a golden plastic goblet. Then in walked Alby behind him, wearing a longer tunic with a purple sash, a golden laurel on his head and a cardboard lightning bold in his hand.

“Hey, looking good, Minho.” Said Alby.

“Tell me again why the track team chose to go Greek?” Minho complained.

“Cuz the costumes show off our superior physique.” Chimed Frypan.

“Not if you keep cooking the way you do.” Minho sassed back.

“Hey, don’t make me dunk my wine on you.”

“You can’t catch me, man, I’m too fast! I’m Hermes!”

“We should probably get going now.” Alby said to Newt, ignoring his less mature friends.

“Wait, I’ve gotta check on my bacon wrapped dates.” Frypan said, hurrying out of the room.

“I can’t believe you made stuff. You know you can buy  _precooked_  shit, right?” sighed Minho, checking that he has his phone and wallet.

“Yeah, everybody’s gonna be drunk, who’s going to know the difference?” said Newt, checking his phone for the time.

They hear Frypan yell from the kitchen, “You swine have no appreciation for food!”

“Guys we’re leaving  **now**.” Shouted Alby from the door of their apartment. Sometimes he didn’t feel like the captain at all.

“Alright,  _Zeus_ , hold your panties.” Minho shouted back.

* * *

“ _Damn_  this place is nice.” Minho said, awed, as they pulled up to the house.

“Brenda’s uncle is some sort of technology development genius. He’s fuckin’ loaded.” Alby explained.

“Which is maybe why she’s so hoity-toity all the time,” offered Frypan.

“I don’t know how she and Teresa are friends…” Newt muttered.

“Teresa’s chill though, she kinda reins her in.” Minho explained.

The music inside was loud, and there were already about a hundred people inside, from vampires to sexy bunnies to SWAT agents with varying levels of skin exposure.

“Hey guys!” the rest of the track team approached them, all wearing togas. They greeted each other, laughing and cheering. The commotion elicited some cheers from the ladies. Minho smirked and turned to Frypan who had a similar look on his face. The look of “hell yeah”.  It’s gonna be a great night.

Alby, on the other hand, seemed utterly disinterested by the catcalls. He turned to Newt, whose back was to him, and put his hands on his shoulders, “I’m gonna get a drink, you want something?”

“Yeah anything’s fine.” Replied Newt. Alby squeezed his shoulders then walked away looking for the kitchen.

“I gotta put these puppies down before they’re all gone.” Said Frypan. He followed Alby with his giant tray of food, leaning in and snickering about something, to which Alby replied with a shove.

“Aren’t they meant to be eaten?” Minho wondered out loud, following them into the vast kitchen, where bottles of soda and hard liquor lined the countertop, along with about twenty bottles of wine.

Alby mixed some vodka and soda, then poured some wine into a cup and mixed it with orange juice. Frypan stood beside him shaking his head, amusement clear on his face. Alby knew that Newt liked sweet alcohol. 

 

Minho poured himself some Jameson and was about to go back out when he ran into someone, spilling his drink onto them.

* * *

“Ah shit, sorry, man,” said the brick wall he just ran into.

“Nah it’s ok, it wasn’t that much.” Thomas said, as he looked up and saw the guy looking around for a napkin, getting distracted immediately by his partly exposed torso and arms.  _Very nice_  arms…

“Dude, you’re like a Greek god.”  _Oh my god Thomas, how stupid was that._

“Oh, yeah, yeah, Hermes or however you pronounce it. Here.” the other boy offered Thomas a paper towel.

“Thanks.” Said Thomas, wiping the front of his blue hoodie. Then he pulled his hood back up, patting it to make sure the blue pointy ears were still tightly sewn on and that his blue track pants and red sneakers were still clean.

“Sonic?”

“What?”

“Your costume, Sonic the hedgehog.”

“Oh, yeah. My cousin made the ears for me. It’s like, a joke, cuz I didn’t get into the track team.”

“Really? I’m on the tr—”

“Thomas, there you are!”

“Hey Terry!” Thomas smiled as Teresa came into the kitchen, wearing an awesome Catwoman outfit, a la Anne Hathaway, draping an arm around him.

“Oh, Minho, you’re here! How’re you enjoying the party?”

“Could use more shit whiskey like this.”

“Oh for god’s sake.” She said rolling her eyes. Then she leaned in mischievously and whispered, “Brenda and I are sneaking into her uncle’s office later to steal a swig of the good stuff.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Minho smirked.  _Oh no, he’s cute, thought Thomas._

“By the way, this is my cousin, Thomas. He transferred in this semester and  _finally_  got his own place yesterday.”

“Oh that’s great, nice to meet you Thomas, I’m Minho.” Minho held out a hand.

“Nice to meet you!” Thomas replied, a little too loud, “I mean I’ve seen you before but you know. Yeah.” Thomas stumbled on nervously, shaking Minho’s hand.

“Good to see you’ve inherited the good looks and didn’t turn out like her.” Minho quipped, jerking his head towards Teresa.

Teresa gave Minho a shove and said, “Haha, fuck you, too.” Then something caught her attention and she groaned, “Agh, Brenda’s going off on some poor freshman. I’ll be right back.” She hurried out of the kitchen towards the living room.

“Soooo…” Thomas’ attention turns back to those playful eyes and  _oh he’s so cute_ …“you’ve seen me before?” Minho asked, mirth dancing behind his eyes.

Thomas stared at the other boy’s hand ( _damn, he had_ _such nice hands_ ) as he sipped on his drink before replying, “Oh, yeah, during the track try-outs. You know, not in a stalker-ish way, more like I noticed you, warming up on the other side of the field. Not that I was looking for you or anything I just noticed you from afar because, okay I’m gonna stop…now.” Thomas fumbled a bit, then turned to the counter and picked up a cup, pretending to look at his options of booze.

“Heh, here,” Minho took the cup from Thomas’ hand and poured some tequila and lemonade and some ice inside, then handed it back to Thomas. “Thanks.”

“You looked a little lost.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been to a college party. I mean there was that one time but all they had was bad vodka and coke.”

“Yeah, this is pretty fancy for a college party though. I mean, lemonade? Damn.”

Thomas laughed and took a sip, “Mm, this is pretty good, thanks dude.”

 

“So, newbie. How come you didn’t make the track team? Sonic getting too old?”

Thomas hits him on the chest playfully, causing Minho to laugh more. 

* * *

Minho scrunched his face up mid-bite into his pumpkin spice pancakes (which were really damn good) as he tried to remember what happened afterwards. He remembered having a great conversation about sports and 90’s video games with Thomas as they leaned on the kitchen counter, getting drunker, bumping into each other more and more, then about three (or four?) solo cups each of hard liquor mixes later Teresa had come back, red-faced from dancing and they snuck (rather loudly) into Brenda’s uncle’s study to steal some whiskey when they heard him come through from behind one of the bookshelves. They ran out, giggling like it was the funniest thing ever, then ended up dancing all night and…he had been sobering up by then, but Thomas seemed to still be tipsy. He had had his arms around Minho’s neck on the dance floor, leaning in, hot breath mingling with his and said… “Oh my god.” 

Minho snapped out of his reverie, eyebrows still knitted, pancake still sitting in his mouth. All three of his roommates were staring at him. He swallowed, looked around and asked, “What?”

 “Minho likes a boy~” Frypan said in a singsong voice.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Minho said, annoyance clear in his voice as he stabbed another piece of pancake and shoved it in his mouth.

“OooooOOOOooooh!! Was is that guy from last night?”

“The one who didn’t make the track team?” asked Newt.

“Yeah, assist coach said he was asking too many questions and had bad form.” Said Alby.

“Well, rat face wouldn’t know good form if it fucked him in the ass.” Minho injected, earning another round of ‘oooohs’ and ‘aawws’ from his fellow team members.

“What?!”

“You’re defending him!” Frypan was practically squealing. Minho doesn’t know what had gotten into him. Then again, Siggy does love the holiday season, “That’s cute.”

“Yea, and  _he’s_  cute” Newt interjected.

“Okay, okay, yes he’s  _kind of_  cute.”

“’Kind of?” said Alby, smirking, “You guys danced all night.”

“Okay, he’s very cute, happy? What is this, are we the let’s-talk-about-our-crush kind of guys now?”

“What did you have to do today?” asked Alby, ignoring his comeback.

“I promised I’d help him move his stuff into his new place.”

 

“Awwwwww” was the response cooed in unison from around the table, and Alby clapped a hand on Minho’s back and Minho just shoved the rest of his pancake into his mouth before grabbing his jacket and hurrying out the door.

Then an idea occurred to him. He stuck his head back in the doorway, looked straight into Alby’s eyes as if to say “you’re going down, bro” before calling out in a serious tone, “Hey Newton, did you know, Albert’s been in love with you for the past six months.” At that, the blonde boy’s face flushed, eyes wide as he turned to look at Alby, who was stuck between looking pissed and panicked at the same time.

Frypan looked between the two boys nervously, then he got up and reached for his keys as well, yelling, “Hey Minho, you son of a bitch, don’t leave me here!”


End file.
